Crusade
by DoctorWhoTFS
Summary: The story of the Eleventh Doctor's two hundred years of travels that took place between S06E07 A Good Man Goes To War and S06E08 Let's Kill Hitler. This is the story of the Doctor meeting freelance journalist Emma Willow and hunting down the young Melody Pond, daughter of Amy Pond and Rory Williams.
1. Prologue

"Come on, raggedy man. What happened?"

Red curls draped against the back of a plastic chair. Amelia Pond sat in her backyard, green eyes piercing through the cool summer night sky. Her object of focus: a floppy-haired man in a tweed jacket. He was grinning at her.

"It's a long story, Pond."

She showed a slight smile.

"I hoped it would be. C'mon, tell. Two hundred years lookin' for Melody. How? How could it possibly have taken you two hundred years to _not_ find her, and then return to us in that cornfield. What did you do in those two hundred years?"

The raggedy man sighed, flashing his eyes downwards. He was fumbling with his hands, trying to find the right words. How could he even begin to describe a two hundred year crusade through the galaxy, searching for his best friend's daughter? He decided on a framing and turned his head back up. Amy sipped from her tea, ears ready to receive anything. Or so she thought. His eyes sparked up as he blurted it out, not with the care of someone sane in his position, but with a twinkle of excitement and hyperactivity one would only find within a child.

"In three very simple, short words: I got distracted."


	2. Chapter One: Lancelot

A giant locked gate in front of her. How could she resist? Emma Willow reached for her camera. The midnight rain had stopped, so now the clear puddles reflected the flash of the camera as it took a picture of the gates. Perfect, Emma judged, tip of her tongue out into the open. She swiftly hung her camera onto her back and retreated from the gates. One step, then two… and ran into it. Just before burrowing her forehead in the dark iron balusters, she jumped, hands gripping the gate tight, and pulled herself up. Emma threw her legs over the wet upper edge of the gate, and let herself fall down the other side.

She found herself in a place akin to the jungles of Borneo suddenly. Her entire focus now shifted from wanderlust to not tripping over dozens of roots that had burst through the dead grass years ago. About a hundred meters in front of her, it rose up: Merville Manor, a mansion built on the outskirts of Greenwich. It used to accommodate orphan children, she had read online. Plans to tear the manor down had finally pushed through. Soon this jungle house would make place for a brand new suburbian quarter, with paperboys and desperate housewives. The whole deal. Emma took out her camera and skipped towards something that once was the terrace where children played together and their supervisors sunbathed while on break. Another flash, another picture. She had now reached the wooden front doors: two behemoths, once painted purple, but after a long and fierce battle with sunlight and time, now flaked away and faded pink. Click! One more picture.

The door screamed a high pitch as she pushed it open. Unlocked! That made her night a whole lot easier, Emma thought. She reached into her pocket and brought out a small but powerful flashlight, immediately switching it on with one-handed practiced ease. "Let there be light," Emma whispered, and glanced around the spacious hallway. From the corners of her eye, a silhouette lit up on both sides of her. She squeaked, heart pounding so loud she thought she could hear the echo ring through the hall. Emma instantly pointed her flashlight to her left. A rusty suit of armour glared back at her. Okay. Just a suit, then. The thought of leaving the suit behind her back didn't comfort her, though, so she took a step forward, feeling her feet dragged to this armour stand by the never ending incentive of curiosity. Her hand reached upwards, touching the metal of the close helmet. She wanted to open it, if only for the reassurance a small child finds when opening their closet and peeking under their bed before going to sleep. That same reassurance, she tried to find when slowly opening the visor of the knight's helmet. Because why would anyone be here, in an abandoned mansion doomed to be demolished? But against any and all reasoning, behind that open visor, through the darkness inside the helmet, two green eyes peered through, small crow's feet suggesting a smiling person wearing the suit.

"Boo."

Emma flinched, and in doing so, tripped over the dusty carpet behind her. Mid-fall, the suit of armour reached forward and took hold of her wrist. The metal of the knight's hand felt ice cold against her million-a-second heartbeat.

"What—?"

A cushioned voice came from the helmet. "Wouldn't go that way if I were you." The knight pulled her up and pointed at something behind her. Emma glanced over her shoulder without thinking, only to return to him with a frown. Who was this person? A freelance journalist like her, perhaps?

"Why are you here? In a suit of armour nonetheless?"

"Now isn't a time for questions. What's your name?"

"That's a question." Emma replied

"Oh, okay, so you're _that_ kind of person."

Emma sent the green eyes in front of her a smug grin.

"Emma," she replied, giving into the mystery man.

"Alright, great. Hello, Emma. We are going to turn around and run back outside as soon as possible. Do you hear me? ASAP."

"You have got zero authority over me, Lancelot."

"That suit of armour nearing us with a battle axe might have, though."

"What?"

"This is where we run."

The knight grabbed hold of her wrist once again and pulled her back into the hallway. WHAM! The door closed right in front of them, echoing through the hall.

"That's not supposed to happen. I thought I regulated the timing!" The knight turned back, shoving the hostile suit of armour away right before it tried to bring down the battle axe to splice their skulls. "In my defence: I really did think I regulated the timing," he mumbled as they slid into a side chamber. "Close the door, please, Emma." And she did as she was told.

A moment of extreme silence. Both the knight and Emma held their breath, waiting for even the tiniest of signs that the suit of armour knew their location. The knight carefully, without producing any sound, started unlocking his hands from his gauntlets. After a few seconds, though, Emma broke the silence, asking a question with burning curiosity.

"Who are you?"

"Shhhh."

"But why would—?"

"Hush means hush, Emma."

"Don't tell me to—!"

A single knock on the door. The suit of armour absolutely knew of their location. Another knock, this time more powerful. "Well. So much for playing hide and seek," the knight whispered. He reached for the helmet and pulled it off. "Hold this, will you?" He handed her the helmet, and she took it, too busy staring at him to resist. A man's face, with a chin that compensated for the lack of definite eyebrows. Drips of sweat tangled together on his forehead, shielded by a goofy quiff.

"I'm trying to get to my jacket's pocket. There's a tool in there that will deal with the suit of armour. What are you even doing in my house, by the way?"

" _Your_ house? This house has been abandoned for over forty years!"

"That's just not true! I've been here on and off for the past three days."

"And that gives you ownership of it?"

"Not really. But I found the deed in 1976, and I like to believe that counts."

While this stressful conversation happened, the two retreated further and further away from the door, until their backs were pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. The door was punched again, this time with even more power. A loose screw shot out of the upper hinge of the door, colliding with the man's armour. "Oh, dear. Seems this door will not hold for much longer."

"That's a shame."

"Well, it _is_ a really nice door."

"I meant it like _that's a shame the evil thingy will be able to come in and put an axe in my skull_."

"Evil 'Thingy'?" The man chuckled.

"So, how's that stripping coming along?"

"Almost there."

"Because I don't think we've got an 'almost' left."

In that moment, the door burst open, crashing to the floor in a large cloud of dust. Through the cloud stepped the suit of armour, raising the axe over his head as he slowly stepped forward.

"Now please, Lancelot!"

"ALMOST THERE!"

"WE DON'T HAVE AN ALMOST ANYMORE!"

The suit of armour loomed over them, battle axe touching the ceiling of the room. Then, as Emma screamed and the Doctor shouted her name, the suit brought the axe down on Emma.


	3. Chapter Two: The Haunted House

The suit of armour loomed over them, battle axe touching the ceiling of the room. Then, as Emma screamed and the Doctor shouted her name, the suit brought the axe down on Emma. Before it hit Emma, the battleaxe froze, inches from her face. Cross-eyed, she stared at it as her scream faded away. The suit of armour had stopped in its tracks. The knight sent her a relieved smile. A jolty buzz echoed through the room. The peculiar sound seemed to originate from the knight's hand. A device with a green, lit-up bulb of some sorts. The man sighed loudly and retracted the laser pointer.

"That was a close one."

He grabbed hold of the battle axe and swiftly pulled it out of the suit's gauntlet fingers. Using the battle axe, he poked the suit's helmet, which rolled off and fell to the floor with a clunk.

"I reset the timing on this one. Harmless 'n beheaded. See?"

The knight threw the battle axe to the floor and slid his sonic device back into his pocket.

"Thing is, though… I can only revert the timing of the anomalies once every, well, let's say, ten hours. One object. So the entire house is active right now."

"What do you mean? Who even are you?"

"I'm the Doctor," the man grinned, his voice deep and raspy but his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Alright, doctor Lancelot. Are you planning on making sense in the upcoming five minutes, or should I go find a window to climb out of? 'Cause I'm not planning on staying if this entire mansion is set on murdering me with an axe."

"I'll try to explain."

They had left the side room, moving alertly through the greater hall into a narrow hallway. According to the Doctor, it led to a safe room. She would know when she would see it, he said. On the way to this room , Emma asked and the Doctor answered. He told her of his three days in Merville Manor, of being charged at by suits of armour in the halls and having books flung to him in the library. The Doctor had set up camp somewhere in the attic, which, according to him, saw the least amount of 'anomalies'.

The anomalies consisted of objects inside the manor turning bad or hostile. The Doctor told about doors slamming him in the face and chairs shooting back whenever he tried to sit down. It had seemed like a practical joke to him. After an incident in the kitchen, where the cutlery is still embedded in one of the walls, he started taking these anomalies more serious.

"Judging from the intervals in which the anomalies take place, this doesn't seem to be a natural occurrence. Someone or something is messing around with these objects," the Doctor mused, his eyes on the device he told her was named a 'sonic screwdriver'. His stare almost pierced through it, as if he could learn the secrets of the universe by examining it closely.

"The sonic readings say the suit of armour flared up as soon as it noticed you step into the mansion. Question is, why would a timed anomaly disregard his schedule to pay attention to you?" While talking, the Doctor had a habit of twirling around, walking in front of Emma, but backwards. He swung around his arms and bumped against cabinets and doors enough to make him qualify as 'clumsy' in Emma's mind. She smiled. The knight was a mystery to her. What was his name? What brought him to Merville Manor? And what caused these anomalies? They really just sounded like—

"—Ghosts, right?"

"Hm?"

She nodded towards the way they came from.

"Sounds like these 'anomalies' are just a fancy word to make me believe this mansion is haunted. Who put you up to this, hm?"

"Emma, a suit of armour almost split you into two smaller, more terrified Emma's less than ten minutes ago, and you really think I'm pranking you?"

"… Fair enough. Is the safe room far?"

"At the end of the next hall, we'll move up two flights of stairs. After that it's just past the sitting room, through a hallway and up a ladder."

The mansion turned out to be gigantic. Emma now understood the entire thing had to be demolished for an entire district to be built. The Doctor was still thinking out loud, but Emma didn't pay any attention anymore. She glared at every object they walked past, prepared for anything.

"Alrighty. The next wave of anomalies, according to my data, will start in about an hour. We'll have made it to the TARDIS by then."

"The TARDIS?"

"My safe room. Safest room on Earth, actually." The Doctor swiftly moved up the stairs, pushing his hands against every painting on the wall beside them, probably to avoid getting one flung at his face, just in case. Emma smiled.

"So, Doctor, why are you here?"

"Same reason as what brought you here, I presume."

"A photoshoot?" Emma snorted.

"Curiosity," the Doctor corrected her, handing her a second-long stare of disapproval. He had an analysing aura about him. That was for sure. His stare could probably serve as x-ray vision during a hospital power outage, Emma thought.

"The sitting room. Send the nice fireplace and velvet armchair a nice look before we move on, 'cause I want to move on. This space gives me the shivers," the Doctor commented as his hands pointed at several once lovely sights. With time, the wood of the armchair seemed rotten and the fireplace a ghost of what it once was. On the walls hung hunting trophies, withered through time. The Doctor held up his wrist and sent his goose bumps a grumpy look. He then full-body shivered and quickly moved through the room. Emma followed, a single foot behind him—and clashed up against him. The Doctor had stopped in the middle of the sitting room. He jumped up and down twice, the floor creaking loudly.

"You feel that beneath your feet?"

"The floor?"

"Exactly. The floor. I remember this feeling differently."

"Is that important now, Doctor?"

"Important? No. Peculiar? Yes."

He resumed his pace and moved to the door on the other side of the sitting room. As his hand reached for the doorknob, his eyes traced over marks that were left on the door. Claw marks. The Doctor let go of the knob and turned around without a warning. His expression now beamed distress as he looked down upon the empty floor in the middle of the room.

"It's important. It's very, very important. Emma, stay close to me. There was s'posed to be a bear rug right there."

Behind the door, a giant, beastly roar was heard, echoing through Merville Manor.


	4. Chapter Three: Into the Basement

Merville Manor. A mansion shrouded in mist. Right now, this perished and abandoned building housed the largest, most dangerous power on Earth. The thing is… No one knew. Whenever a person sneaked into the house, they disappeared. Not Emma, though. She found a guardian to keep her safe as they unravelled the mystery that hid in the core of the mansion, deep down in its basements.

"I'm not sure I'm following y-" Emma whispered, but she was cut off by a giant beastly roar, coming from behind the door. The Doctor clenched his fists as he looked around the room. The hunting trophies seemed to be staring at them, eyes following the Doctor as he began pacing around the sitting room.

"Alright, so we can't access the TARDIS and the anomalies have stopped appearing at regular intervals. Almost feels like these 'ghosts' are doing whatever they want."

"Can't we find out what causes the anomalies without using the TARDIS?" Emma asked. The Doctor turned her way and brought his hand to his chin, plucking at it. He was thinking out loud now.

"Perhaps we can… But the only option we have right now is to dive into the deep dark beneath the mansion."

"Fine! So let's do that!" She turned around and began walking. The Doctor followed, right behind her.

"But, Emma, the anomalies… They're going to become more intense, more dangerous, the further we go down!"

"So you're saying we should wait 'til Winnie the Pooh back there heads back into hibernation?"

"No, no. I'm saying we should keep our eyes peeled. Any object could cause death when flung hard enough at our heads. We should regard Merville Manor as hostile."

The Doctor and Emma had made their way through the mansion, back to the main hall, where Emma had entered what felt like a whole new world less than a mere hour ago. The Doctor, still wearing half of his armour, twirled from one piece of furniture to the next, pushing them against the walls or holding them tight, just in case an anomaly decided to occur. It was a funny sight, Emma had to admit. It somehow reminded her of her father, who once came over to her new college dorm room to set up three hundred pounds worth of IKEA furniture. When the wood glue was in place, he'd sit there and hold her cabinets and chairs, just like the Doctor was doing just now.

Occasionally, a roar was heard coming from upstairs. Emma didn't mind the reoccurring confirmation that two floors separated the bear rug and them, but the Doctor looked up at the ceiling every single time, his face sporting a concerned look. His safe room was up there, of course. He seemed to really care about what happened to his TARDIS.

"What does it stand for?"

"Hm?" the Doctor responded, not sure what she was referring to.

"TARDIS. Your safe room upstairs. Or did you just think of a random word to label the safest chamber in this hellhole of a house?" Emma mused, eyes trailing over the paintings on the dark wooden wall behind the Doctor.

"It's just a random word. That's all." The Doctor chuckled softly as he let go of a cabinet and stepped up to the next piece of furniture. Every smile that left his lips felt like a thousand secrets and riddles only he understood. The man was as much of a mystery as this house.

"How far 'til the paintings start to attack us, Doctor?" That sentence came out more cynical than she had meant for it to sound. The Doctor, luckily, didn't pick up on any of it and just responded with a nod in one of two directions.

"Through here, down the stairs, through the kitchen, another flight of stairs and the library." There was a notable shiver in his voice when he mentioned the kitchen. Emma grimaced. The kitchen didn't felt like a place you'd want to be when all objects (including knives, forks and skewers) can be flung at you at any time.

"Even though some of the anomalies occur during intervals, others seem to wait until the activity peak. Interesting," the knight mused, his hand touching over one of the paintings. It was true. They hadn't seen any books flying around or candles poking them. The house finally seemed like an actual abandoned mansion. Silence filled the halls they walked.

"Y'know, Emma… You've been acting like this is a usual Saturday activity to you."

"So have you," Emma retorted curtly.

"But to me, this is actually quite… normal, I suppose." The Doctor had trouble translating his thoughts into words.

" _Normal_? What do you even do on an average daily basis?"

"I travel."

"You… travel?"

"Yeah. I go places."

"What places?"

"I don't know– just _places_."

"Enlightening, Lancelot," Emma murmured, averting her eyes from him to act out an eye roll. The Doctor sent her a quick smile. They had now moved on to the first staircase, which would lead them to the kitchen.

"Right, okay, Emma. This is where we run straight through the kitchen, to the other side, through the door and down the stairs. 'Cause we don't want to get stuck there."

"We don't," Emma confirmed, nodding understandingly.

"We really don't. I've seen those skewers coming at me with high velocity, so trust me. Just run. No looking back."

"Don't worry. I understand." They had reached the closed kitchen door. Five or six pieces of sharp metal were piercing through the wood; the aftermath of the Doctor's one visit to the kitchen, Emma guessed. She snorted.

"Oi! Eyes on the prize, Emma." The Doctor reached for the knob. Emma nodded.

The door swung open without a problem. The Doctor and Emma bolted into the kitchen. The space was a lot larger and cleaner than she had imagined. Right across the room, in the far left, was the other door, standing open.

"That's the one!" the Doctor shouted and pointed at it.

They ran past sinks, jumped over countertops and climbed past stoves. No anomalies seemed to take place. Maybe it'd all work out, Emma couldn't help but think as she pushed past a waste hatch in the wall. She felt really naïve for a second, but they were actually closing in on the door real fast. Her foot suddenly was stuck in one of the pans, scattered on the floor. She fell over, but quickly pulled herself back up. The pan was still around her foot, not even budging in the slightest. The Doctor shot her a look over his shoulder.

"We'll take it off once we're on the other side!" he yelled. Emma nodded and took off again, this time no tip-tap sound from her feet, but a tip-CLUNK, tap- CLONK. She caught herself laughing out loud. This was crazy, right? What did this night turn into?

"Come on, Emma! You're almost here!" the Doctor shouted, his voice echoing through the kitchen. He had reached the kitchen door, and was now waiting in front of the next stairway. Emma ran as fast as she could. The Doctor grabbed something out of his pocket— the sonic laser thing! He scanned the area, it seemed. The low, soothing buzz of the sonic grew louder as she advanced towards the door. A few more feet left! The sonic screwdriver suddenly wailed some sort of alarm, which screeched through the kitchen. The Doctor jumped up slightly and looked at her with wide, fearing eyes.

"Emma, quick! Now!"

Right before she reached the door, it moved, slamming shut with a loud bang. Emma felt her heart skip a beat as she pushed her hands forward as to not clash against the closed door. She turned the knob, to no avail. It was locked down. Emma slowly turned around, gazing upon the kitchen as a whole. All the way across the room, the other door slammed shut. Everywhere, drawers opened. Pots and pans defied gravity by slowly hovering upwards, and cutlery and large butcher knives left their drawer homes. In front of her, the entire kitchen was alive. Anomalies as far as she could see, and every heavy object, every sharp tip was pointing right at her. Behind her, the muffled sound of the Doctor slamming against the door and yelling was of no comfort. The anomalies slowly flew forward, closing in on her, and yet all she could think of was her father in her dorm room, shooting her an excited look when he constructed every piece of furniture. She remembered what he said when she sat down on her new couch, grinning widely.

'Welcome home, sweetie. All done. You're finished.' That's what her dad said. And that's what she was about to be. Finished.


End file.
